


Did I Mention

by merae2888



Series: Adulting [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Love, Smut, food kink sorta kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merae2888/pseuds/merae2888
Summary: “Did I mention you look really fucking good on a horse?”orClarke teaches Bellamy to ride a horse.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone that keeps coming back to read this little series!

“If I can learn to drive, you can learn to do this.”

Bellamy huffs and takes a step back, mostly to be a dick, a little ‘cause he’s wary. “Driving the rover and riding a horse are very different things.”

He’s not scared, okay. He’s simply, logically respectful of a creature much larger than him, much more powerful than him, one he doesn’t know how to control. 

Clarke named him Atlas and denies it was for Bellamy’s sake but she’s shit at lying to him and he can see that the choice was meant to go after his inner history nerd and endear the beast to him. The name helps some but what really gets him is this: the white mark on his nose that Clarke likes to kiss and the huge brown eyes that track her movements. Atlas tilts his head toward her and his ear twitches when she scratches behind it. 

“He’s a good boy. Just give it a try, please Bell?” She gives him a little pout and that’s it.

“Shit,” he grumps as he steps closer and the horse goes on alert, straightening his neck and staring at Bellamy. Clarke croons at him, petting his flank as Bellamy extends his hand to scratch at his nose the way he’s seen Clarke do. The horse lifts his head and Bellamy pauses. 

Clarke comes to his side and takes his wrist, her touch soothing. “It’s okay. Just be gentle.” She guides his hand to Atlas’ neck. The horse relaxes a bit as Bellamy pets him, soothing strokes of his palm over his soft mane, Clarke’s hand staying on the back of his. 

“See,” she says happily when Atlas ducks his head. “Isn’t he sweet?”

Bellamy uses his other hand to scratch at the white mark on his nose. “He’s not terrible.”

She leaves him to get the saddle and once it’s secured, she pats the horse’s backside. “You first,” Clarke says and there’s really no point in arguing, not when she can just whip out that adorable pout again. 

Bellamy has to hop a few times to get enough momentum to swing his leg over. He squirms around for a second, trying to get comfortable and trying not to think about the massive animal he was now sitting astride. Once he’s situated, he looks to Clarke and extends his hand. For a moment, she just looks at him, her eyes wide and clear and he has to shake his hand in front of her face before she grips it. She gets up much easier than him, swinging herself around like she was born on a ranch instead of a spaceship. 

“Showoff,” Bellamy mutters as she settles behind him. Atlas adjusts his stance, probably getting used to their combined weight but he’s otherwise still, waiting for a command. Clarke reaches around Bellamy for the reins. She holds them in front of him and jiggles her hand impatiently when he doesn’t immediately take them. With a sigh, he grabs for the reins and Clarke squeezes his wrists once, gently, before her hands drop to his sides.

He does nothing for a moment, he isn’t really sure what to do, ready for Clarke to lead him as always but before he can ask, she scoots in close behind him, pressing her front to his back. The hairs on his neck stand up where she breathes. “I trust you,” she whispers. “And Atlas trusts me.” Her arms come around him. She rests her palm over his beating heart. “Breathe, my love.” He does, one huge inhale and then exhale, blowing his hair out of his eyes at the same time. 

“When you’re ready,” Clarke says, still in that gentle, sweet whisper, “squeeze your lower legs against him.”

“Are you sure he’s gonna like that?” Bellamy asks quickly. So maybe he is nervous.

Clarke presses her lips against his shoulder and he thinks for a second that she’s trying to quell a fit of laughter but she’s just kissing him. Soft baby pecks on his shirt and the warmth of her mouth seeps down to his skin and he starts to feel more comfortable. “Yes, he’ll be fine. Don’t be intimated by Atlas,” she says. She drags her hand down the front of his chest, dipping her fingers under his shirt so she can draw her nails across his lower stomach, the way she does when she wants him in the morning and he’s still trying to sleep. “Did I mention you look really fucking good on a horse?”

Despite his current anxiety, his body responds to her hand, her words, the low, sultry quality of her voice. He clears his throat and tips his head back to look at her. “You really think gettin’ me going is a good idea right now?”

She smiles and kisses his cheek and it is working. She’s working, her presence, like always, making everything better. He turns to nip at her nose, just with his lips and she snaps her teeth at him playfully. Atlas chooses that moment to shift on his hooves and Bellamy immediately faces front again, tightening his grip on the reins. Clarke starts petting at his arms, from his shoulders to his wrists before he feels her legs squeeze slightly against the horse. 

They ride slowly, Bellamy inhaling sharply every time Atlas does something unexpected, like speed up to a trot or shake his head, but eventually he relaxes enough to actually enjoy the bright, warm day. The landscape they’re traveling through is familiar, a view he’s seen from every angle a thousand times but it’s different, more surreal, a dream he could exist in forever. He remembers his mom telling him stories about cowboys, never imagining that one day he’d get to see a horse, let alone ride one. 

When they get to the apple orchard, Clarke suggests a break. They dismount, tie Atlas to a nearby tree and Bellamy takes the blanket from under the saddle and spreads it on the ground and lies down, stretching out his hamstrings.

Clarke picks two apples, feeds one to Atlas before lying beside Bellamy, close enough he can feel her body heat. She hands him the other apple and he smacks a kiss to the back of her hand. 

He never thought he’d get to do this either, lie beneath the sun with someone he loves.

The lush branches provide some shade but it’s all chopped up, odd shadow shapes falling over both of them. Clarke closes her eyes and Bellamy watches as the wind blows through the leaves, shifting the patterns of sunlight on her face. 

He cuts the apple with his pocketknife and pops a slice into his mouth, chewing noisily until Clarke’s eyes slit open. He grins even as a bit of apple juice drips out of the corner of his mouth.

She shuts her eyes and opens her mouth, wanting a bite. Bellamy cuts another slice from the apple and brings it to Clarke’s lip, rubbing the juicy meat over her mouth like balm. She lifts her head slightly, tongue darting out for a taste and he pulls it away just before she can get a lick. 

“Tease,” Clarke mutters, sinking back down onto the soft earth.

He takes another bite of the apple and leans over, kissing her softly, fluttering his tongue against her lips so she can get a hint of the fruity sweetness.

She tugs at his belt-loops and he braces himself as he climbs over her, pressing down until they are connected at every inch. It’s been a few days since he’s shaved and Clarke bites at the stubble on his jaw while running her hands through his hair, making him hum with pleasure. 

When life gets slow like this, with Clarke pulling him closer so she can kiss him the way she wants and the sun beating down on his neck and the breeze blowing strands of her golden hair into his face, Bellamy feels fully alive.

It lasts forever, the kiss expanding and growing until it’s everything, the beginning and ending of time and his heart is swelling in his chest, pushing at the back of his throat. When he finally pulls away, they’re both panting and Clarke’s got pink spots high on her cheeks.

He rolls away to pick up the apple again, slicing off another wedge. He leans on his elbow and pushes her shirt up. 

She shudders when he rubs the fruit down her stomach “It’s cold,” she huffs but then he follows the trail of sweet juice with his tongue and she sighs. He stalls at her pants, dragging his tongue along the waistband, making her muscles jump. “Bell,” she whines when he works his way back up, dipping his tongue into her navel, tracing the ridges of her ribs with his mouth. 

He pushes her shirt higher and she takes it off as he slips his arms around her to undo her bra. He takes the apple wedge and draws a circle around her nipple, sucking the juice off a second later. She arches off the ground, pushing her chest into his face and he takes care to give her other breast just as much attention. 

“Bellamy,” she whines again, raising her hips up. He cups her, rubbing the heel of his palm where she’s desperate for pressure and friction. 

“Relax, babe. Don’t I always take care of you?” he asks, popping the button of her pants with his other hand. This time, he rubs the apple slice just under the fabric of her panties, watching as Clarke writhes under the different sensations. She nods, biting her lip and pushing herself harder against his hand. “Wanna know a secret?”

A swallow, another nod. He gets in close, bites the shell of her ear. “You taste sweeter than the apple.”

He shifts lower, divesting her of her pants and panties at once and buries his head between her thighs, growling at the wetness he finds there. Just a few quick, hot strokes of his tongue and Clarke is already close, riding that pulse of euphoria up and up and up to the height. He fucks his tongue into her, delighting in the way she shoves her hands in his hair to pull him in closer. He works her good and long, backing off and then keying her up again at a steady pace so she doesn’t lose the pleasure. Two of his long fingers replace his tongue, pumping inside her while he sucks at her clit, his teeth making one slight scrape against her. He keeps his fingers moving as Clarke begins to fall apart. 

He gentles his tongue when it finally breaks over her, her back aching and breath stuttering. She cards her fingers through his hair as he licks her, gathering her release on his tongue. He makes a point to look at her when he swallows. 

She’s limp as a rag doll on the ride home, slouched against his back the entire time, arms wrapped loosely around his middle. He’s pretty sure at some point she falls asleep but when they get near Arkadia, she perks up and props her chin on his shoulder, drags her hands across his lower belly again. “This is such a good look for you. Did I mention that?” 

It’s a little while before they actually make it inside the gates.

**Author's Note:**

> To err is human, to comment is divine!


End file.
